


A Fatal Distraction

by asylum69



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: F/M, Methos and Amanda just having a little naughty fun ...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 15:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10722489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asylum69/pseuds/asylum69
Summary: Amanda is bored, (so what else is new?) and picks on Methos to entertain her ...





	A Fatal Distraction

 

DISCLAIMER: Neither Methos nor Amanda belong to me. 　They are the property of Panzer/Davis, Ryesher and whoever else has a legal claim to them. 　No money made on this, and it's just for fun.

 

　

A 　FATAL 　DISTRACTION

by ghared

 

　

"You've done **_WHAT!!?_** "

　

"I've bought you. 　Lock, stock and Chronicles, old boy ... Sorry, Methos, but you're in for a rather bumpy ride for the next few ..."

　

"The next few WHAT, Amanda? 　Hours? 　Days? ... **WEEKS?** "

　

Amanda, in full tease-mode, and madly flashing her eyes - and one or two other things - at thim, tsked gently and waggled a finger at him.

　

"More like **_MONTHS_** , honeybun. 　Hey, Methos, what was I going to do? 　This rabid fanfic writer wakes me up in the middle of the night to get my opinion on MacLeod over something ... I forget what ... and then she asks me if there's anything she can do for me in return? 　How could I resist?"

　

Methos reached over the pillow for his sword, and to his horror, discovered it wasn't there. 　"Amanda ...!!"

　

"I told you; Lock, Stock and Weapon. 　You can have it back if you ask **_nicely_**."

　

But Methos wasn't in the mood for playing games, especially not Amanda's idea of games, and diving across the bed, he made a grab for her, intending to pin her in a very uncomfortable wrestling hold, until she gave in.

　

Unfortunately, it didn't work out quite like that.

　

Somehow, and so quickly he didn't even catch what she did, he ended up on his butt on the floor, with Amanda straddling his chest, effectively pinning his arms. 　He tried to heave her off him, but all of a sudden she seemed to have the strengthof an Amazon and he couldn't budge her. 　Next, he tried to manoeuvre his legs up and around her neck, to force her off him, but she anticipated the move and leaned down and kissed him.

　

When she finally let him up for air, he wasn't in a fit state to be doing much of anything, let alone freeing himself from the position he was held in by this tranformed WitchQueen from hell.

　

"How!!?" he croaked out, when he could breathe again.

　

Amanda smiled smugly, and then abrubtly got off him and hauled him to his feet, with one quick flick of her hand.

　

"Thanks to this fanfic writer I've been working out, **EXTENSIVELY** ," she breathed over he shoulder at him, walking away to lean against the window frame and take in the early morning Paris view, whilst stroking her fingers down over her own suddenly very well muscled butt, in a seemingly abstracted fashion.

　

Methos turned away from her with a face that would put most expressions of cold fury to shame, and hurriedly went through the short list of choices.

　

'Okay. 　I can play along with her until she gets tired of this and lets me back under my own control. 　No, that could take forever. 　Or I could find this 　 _*rabid fanfic writer*_ 　and up the stakes to turn the tables. 　Or I could fina a fanfic writer of my own, and take revenge that way. 　Get Amanda so that she doesn't know whether she's coming or going; but that could take time.'

　

It looked as if he really only had one viable option: Find the Fanfic Writer. 　Which meant saying nothing to give the game away, whilst being sweet to Amanda, putting up with whatever she chose to throw at him, and trying to get her to let something slip. 　Preferably **NOT** anything she was wearing. 　He knew about the way she had of winding Duncan - not to mention Richie - around her little finger that way, so he had to be careful.

　

On the other hand ... five thousand years of experience might just come in very useful if he handled this right. 　Well; handled **_her_** right, anyway.

　

He turned back, still keeping some of the anger there, but only just enough to fool her.

"Alright, Amanda, SWEETIE; if I can handle surviving around Kronos, I guess I can do the same with you."

　

Beaming broadly at him, she came back and chucked him under the chin; something he thoroughly detested, which she no doubt knew, but he managed to keep it to himself.

"I'm **_so_** glad you're seeing sense," she pouted at him, and then smartly dragging him back onto the bed, she began undressing for battle. 　"You don't mind being a loveslave for a few hours, I suppose?"

　

Methos, grinning inwardly, meekly shook his head. 　"I kind of saw that coming, actually," he told her.

　

"Thought you would," she replied, as she reached for the tie of his robe.

　

'Enjoy yourself, Amanda,' Methos thought to himself, already lining up a plan of attack. 　'You're going to know the real meaning of the words _'loveslave'_ , by the time I'm through ...

　

____________________________________________________________

　

　

Fifteen hours later, Methos had, not only the name of the fanfic writer, but his freedom back; Lock, Stock, Chronicles AND Weapon. 　Not to mention his revenge. 　And all for the price of the backdoor key of some guy named Adrian Paul. 　He'd been easy enough to find on a little-known (except to Methos, of course) Internet Database. 　A quick trip to Vancouver, a little house-breaking, a little wax impression, and hey, Presto! 　One backdoor key.

　

He had even had time to retrieve all his possessions from where Amanda had hidden them, and was having a very pleasant dinner in a little out-of-town restaurant, by the time Amanda came around from the swoon he had left her in.

　

She awoke to find that she had a crick in her neck from her right arm being lifted up behind her. 　When she could finally twist round enough to see wha was holding it prisoner, she discovered he ahd handcuffed her to the bed head. 　Flailing around to see if he had been considerate enough to have left her the key - although she considered this extremely unlikely, and in fact, he hadn't　- she came across a piece of paper on the pillow next to her. 　Fishing it around with her spare hand to where she could read it, she swore loudly at the situation she was in.

　

'I guess I went too far, this time,' she mused to herself unhappily. 　'I just had NO IDEA he was that damn **_good!!_** '

　

Having digested the contents of the message he had left her, she swore again, and decided tht she would stick to bothering MacLeod in future. 　It read:

　

'Dearest Amanda,

　

Loveslave you want? 　Loveslave you get. 　(That's an unpickable handcuff, by the way; I designed it myself.) 　There is nothing anywhere within your reach with which you can get yourself free, unless you're into sadomasachism, barbarism, extreme pain, etc., in which case, by all means, get chewing. 　I'll see you in a few hours. 　Hope you've recovered by then; I have a **_rather active_** night planned.

　

By the way; those were just a FEW of the more interesting moves. 　You ain't seen nuthin' yet ...

　

　

Yours **FOR EVER** ,

You Know Who ...'

~Finis~

 

　

　


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